The Path Of Thorns
by gf7
Summary: Takes place after The Devil You Know. It's a trip inside Dinah's head about the trip she took inside Helena's.


Title: The Path Of Thorns  
  
Author: Shawn Carter  
  
Email: gfshawn@earthlink.net . Feedback is always appreciated and well received.  
  
Website: Eventually  
  
Disclaimer: T/R created the show.  
  
Notes: This story follows after The Devil You Know, which follows after a few others. That line starts with Survivor. You can find all of the stories on www.fanfiction.net under id shawngf.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: It's Dinah's turn to get a bit introspective. She thinks about her recent trip into Helena's mind and how to make sense of the darkness in there.  
  
Music Notes: The title is from Sarah McLachlan off of the Surfacing album. Lyrics are the Eagles.  
  
*****  
  
"Rolling and burning  
  
Blinded by thirst  
  
They didn't see the stop sign  
  
Took a turn for the worst"  
  
*****  
  
I've been through so much in my life.  
  
I'm sixteen years old and I've been beaten to a bloody pulp. I've been forced to sleep in a closet overnight so that my adopted parents couldn't hear my screams. I've been told that I somehow offended God and that my visions were a punishment from above. And a demonic kiss from below. Do you even want to guess what hell that kicks up in a young girls mind?  
  
But I suppose the better question is do I believe it?  
  
I'm sixteen; I believe too much.  
  
"Dinah?" she says from behind me. I turn and look wearily into the green eyes of the woman who reached out to me when everyone else had thrown me away. She smiles warmly at me but I can she's concerned. She's always that. Idly I think that one day she'll make a fantastic mother. Only she already kind of is.  
  
"Barbara," I say with a smile. It doesn't reach my eyes and I'm sure she sees that but it's hardly important now. It's been a rough night; I'm willing to bet that she'll cut me some slack.  
  
I mean come on, it's not every day that you go for a ride inside of your best friends' skull and see her nearly get executed. It was a severe trip and I don't think I'm quite ready to deal with it. At least the imagery of that specific nightmare. Everything else is shooting around in my skull.  
  
Six months ago I didn't even know I had powers. I was aware of my visions and my nightmares but I didn't have a name for them. They were just those weird episodes that ended up getting me hit. And sent to my room while everyone else ate dinner. Not to mention into the confessional for hours of talk-time.  
  
You know, to get the devil out.  
  
Now I'm part of a superhero team. Daughter of the legend known as Black Canary. Youngest member of a trio of peacekeepers.  
  
Madness really.  
  
But come now, let's move on.  
  
"Dinah?" Barbara Gordon asks again. She places a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, as if to bring me back to reality.  
  
"I'm here," I say almost lazily. I feel drowsy but not exactly sleepy. It's hard to explain so I won't bother.  
  
"Maybe you should lie down. You've had quite a day."  
  
Involuntarily, I snort. Her eyebrow leaps into her hairline and her jaw sets. For the briefest of moments, I'm afraid. It passes though because I know this woman. I know her well now.  
  
If she had never managed to slap the hell out of Helena for all of the stunts she'd pulled, well then I rather guess I'm safe. Besides, Barbara's not that kind of woman. There is an insane innate gentleness in her that overrides everything else.  
  
I shake my head to clear my thoughts. I need air. I need space.  
  
"I'm fine," I insist. "Really fine." I tug a bit at my shirt. "Just a bit caught."  
  
Barbara tilts her head like she doesn't quite believe me. I'm sure she doesn't. I'm a terrible liar. Have been all of my life.  
  
Did you have a dream last night? After we told you not to?  
  
Yes, mother. Yes, I did.  
  
"She's sleeping now," Barbara assures me. "She's not dreaming right now."  
  
I offer her a smile but even I can feel the pain in it. I wonder if it looks more like a grimace. God I hope not. It must be grotesque. "I know," I say softly, not really wanting to talk about it.  
  
She squeezes my shoulder again. "You did good. You got her out."  
  
"I know," I say again. I want to break away but I hold my ground. Barbara hasn't done anything to me and I don't want to scare her.  
  
But God do I need to scream.  
  
"You should get some sleep as well," Barbara tells me. I study her for a long moment, seeing the exhaustion in her green eyes. She's worn to the bone. I look her over, from head to foot. She's wearing baggy jeans and a wife-beater. I wonder whom the jeans belong to. They are definitely not hers.  
  
"Not yet," I reply.  
  
I move away from her and go towards the kitchen. My suede jacket is on the counter. I had tossed it there much earlier and now it lies there haphazardly. I pick it up and pull it on; its warmth overcomes me immediately.  
  
"Are you going out?" Barbara asks. She looks so tired and I find myself actually worrying about her. I wonder how she's managing to keep herself pulled together. I know myself and I'm hanging on by my fingertips.  
  
I nod slowly. "I need air. Just a few minutes. I won't go far."  
  
I'm not sure if that's a lie but it doesn't really matter. I lock eyes with her and I can see that she's trying to read me. I wonder how she's doing. Can she cut all the way through? Can she tell that I feel like I'm bleeding inside? Does she see that little place down deep that I desperately don't want to talk about? Those strange funky emotions that I shouldn't even have? Does she see them?  
  
Finally she drops her eyes and I feel my breath release. I hadn't realized that I was holding it so I cough a bit. She creases her brow but I wave her off. "Fine," I say quickly. "I'm fine."  
  
"Okay," she relents. She moves her wheelchair over towards the computer bank. "Are you taking the comm set?"  
  
I actually consider this for a moment but I quickly shake my head. "No. I won't be far."  
  
She's not facing me but I can tell from her posture that she's not happy with my response. Just the same, after the day I've had, she decides to let it go. I see her shoulders slump a bit and then she begins to type.  
  
I wonder about the isolation she feels.  
  
God help us all if we're not just a little bit more punished just because we care.  
  
Figure that.  
  
"I'll be back soon," I assure her, feeling like I have to say something. I don't know if my words will soothe her but suddenly I have the urgent need to. Her wounds are so open. Damned if they aren't almost oozing.  
  
She waves her hand in the air to tell me that she heard and understood. I can't see her face but somehow I know something is wrong. I almost cross the room to check on her but my selfishness takes over.  
  
I turn and step into the elevator. The moment the doors close, I shut my eyes tightly. I want to scream but I choose to wait.  
  
I need air.  
  
And boy do I get it.  
  
I step out into the cold New Gotham air and almost immediately my cheeks are stung by the crispness of the cold night wind. I pull my jacket tight around me.  
  
I wish I could fly right about now.  
  
Sometimes I wish to God that I was her.  
  
Then I could jump across buildings, screaming out my rage and fury. I could become part of the night and maybe even lose myself in the darkness of it all.  
  
But that's not really me is it?  
  
I'll never be her and I'll never really get near understanding her.  
  
I shake my head. I curse at myself. I know better. This is madness.  
  
All of it.  
  
I look around and my eyes light on a ladder attached to a building. Common sense begins to bark in my ear but I ignore it. I slap my hand around the first rung and I start to climb to the top.  
  
Once there, I get it.  
  
I really get it.  
  
This is her world. Up here in the darkness of the night where no one can see her and no one can condemn her. She can hide her and show her ugly side.  
  
I know she has one. It's what brings me towards her. It's what scares the living hell out of me. I'm both attracted and repulsed by the blackness inside of her.  
  
I've never known anyone quite like Helena Kyle.  
  
So vibrant. So angry. So passionate. So damn wrecked.  
  
So incredibly fucked up.  
  
That's the truth of it really. She's a mess. She doesn't know up from down. She thinks she can live through her rage and somehow wake up every morning to a clean start. It's not optimism for her though; it's called survival. I kind of dig that about her but it scares the shit out of me. She's like a wild animal looking for a place to call home. And then even after she's found it, she doesn't quite accept it.  
  
One of these days, she's going to get herself killed. And she might even enjoy that too.  
  
I shake my head. I can't contemplate that. I actively choose not to.  
  
So I do what I came to do.  
  
I scream.  
  
I fold my hands against my sides and I let it rip. I don't have my mothers' cry but you bet your sweet ass that I have a set of chords on me.  
  
And the best part is, in her world, no one can hear me scream if I don't want them to.  
  
I have no idea how long it lasts but eventually I fall and hit the ground. It's cold and grimy but I don't care. I fold myself into a ball and I let the sobs come. I let it all come.  
  
It feels good. It feels so good.  
  
And it hurts so much.  
  
I wonder if this is what it feels like to be torn apart. So many warring emotions. So much agony.  
  
I saved her life today. I made her fight.  
  
She saved mine. She found the fight.  
  
We were both about to fall but that anger pushed her forward. It made her snap and it kept her kicking. She doesn't want to die but I'm not always certain that she wants to live either.  
  
And she certainly doesn't want to love.  
  
Now don't get me wrong, she loves to play. She flirts like she was born to do just that and she likes to dangle herself out over the line. Like a damn dog treat. She plays life so fast and loose. She plays her body the same way.  
  
Now hey now, I'm not calling her names. I would never do that. I'm not even thinking that. She feels a delicious strength in her body. She enjoys the power in it. And she is wicked.  
  
But she also hates herself.  
  
Five minutes in her head and I got that.  
  
Which is not to say that she despises herself every single time she takes a lover to her bed. That's not even close to true. She loves those moments. She's alive then. Sex is like a drug to her. It's a moment of life and she's constantly craving it.  
  
I wonder what that's like.  
  
Okay, no more secrets here.  
  
I haven't been where she is. I've never been with a man or a woman. She's been with both and she digs it all. The most I've ever done was had my hand pushed into a guys unsnapped jeans and that wasn't exactly something I'd place on a highlight reel.  
  
She left that behind her long ago. Sometime after her mother was murdered and she shattered into a thousand pieces. That was when the whole idea of one person and one love went flying out the window. She replaced it with the oh so lovely ideal of get some and get gone. But enjoy the living hell out of it first.  
  
Me? I'm still breaking. Maybe she has figured out how to force her shards of glass back into some macabre pane but I haven't.  
  
My life has gotten so confusing as of late. I barely know who I am anymore. I feel like I'm constantly struggling for reality. For reason and sense.  
  
She has a man in love with her. Even I can see that. But can you love someone just because you feel their pain? Can you love someone just because you do?  
  
Do I even have a clue what love really is?  
  
Does she?  
  
And if she touched it, would she destroy it?  
  
And would Reese give a damn? Would I?  
  
Wow. I'm getting so far ahead of myself that it's amazing. I don't know what these feelings are. I don't know that they're actually feelings. I know how I am when I'm around her but I don't know if it's real.  
  
I don't know it by name.  
  
Love?  
  
Hell if I know. I'm not like that but when I'm around her, you have this feeling that everyone who crosses her path either loves or hates her. It's never in the middle.  
  
But this isn't all about her.  
  
Somewhere down at the base of me, I'm still trying to find my center. I'm still trying to make sense of me. I'm sixteen but I'm still reaching for solid ground.  
  
I'm sick of so much pain. I'm starting to get through it. I'm starting to feel again. My mother is dead but my family is still alive. Even if my idea of family is becoming more confused by the day.  
  
I swear I'm not sick. I don't know what I am. I don't know.  
  
And still she's in my head.  
  
It's my fault really. I went inside of her and I kicked the furniture. I turned over a few stones that maybe I shouldn't have. I know things about her that I have no business knowing.  
  
I know she doesn't want to love. I know she'll fight it with every breath she has. She'll even destroy it if it comes too close.  
  
So really, we all must be mad. Barbara. Reese. Me. Insane really.  
  
I press my hands against my temples and I apply pressure. My head is blazing with pain. Everything hurts but you can't really call it agony.  
  
How about fear? Does that work better? Can I get away with that one?  
  
No, mother, I swear that I haven't been dreaming again. Yes, I promise not to embarrass you anew.  
  
So here I am. Here I am.  
  
I'm standing on the roof of a building that should have been demolished a very long time ago and I'm looking down at the ground. I'm only up two stories but I know full well that I wouldn't make the jump. I'd probably crumble and then break.  
  
Story of my life.  
  
I have the urge to scream again but now I lack the strength. My shoulders slump forward a bit and I trudge my way towards the ladder. I climb down it slowly. Coming down is always harder than going up. You kind of lose that lightheaded feeling.  
  
My hands are cold as I touch the rusted metal but I continue to slide down the rungs until my feet hit the cracked cement of the ground. I kick a scrap of paper away from my heel and then curl my jacket around me.  
  
I'm not yet ready to go home.  
  
I'm not yet ready to deal.  
  
Just the same, I start to walk. I let my feet guide me because my head sure can't. And Lord knows that my heart is pretty dumb.  
  
You see so much strength in a person and it drives you. You become intoxicated by it. Then you see them vulnerable and maybe they're not the one breaking. You are.  
  
I am.  
  
A strong part of me wishes that I had never gone into Helena's dreams. I mean, I know I had to. She was going to die if I didn't. The Joker had his fist around her throat and he was killing her. Metaphorically of course.  
  
And she had stopped fighting.  
  
I saved her.  
  
Who the hell is going to save me from having her in my head?  
  
From seeing the demons that are inside of her. Eating away at her soul.  
  
I've seen such fury before in the blow of a fist against my jaw but I always shirked away from it. I never let it touch me. I rebelled against the anger and I maintained that there would eventually come a light that I could use to pull me out.  
  
It came.  
  
Barbara and Helena provided me a safe haven and they gave me strength. They taught me to fight and to be strong and not afraid.  
  
I don't think Helena quite got the memo.  
  
I kick the ground angrily. I want to be thinking about something besides her. I need to have my own center. Getting obsessed with her will only lead to only destruction. Not to mention humiliation. Not really my tip.  
  
She'll never return the feelings. No matter what they be. Devotion. Lust. Love. Who knows? She'll be my friend and my partner but she'll always hide from anything that might touch her insides.  
  
So save yourself and get the hell out of dodge, Dinah. Don't put yourself up against the wall because you already know how it will turn out.  
  
I'm an idiot though so that will never happen.  
  
"You're back," Barbara says, sliding her chair around to face me.  
  
I blink. So I am. I look around me, more than a bit confused. I know that I can get lost in my own thoughts but I traveled almost three blocks and even managed to ID myself into the Clocktower. Damn if I'm not talented. I chuckle a bit.  
  
"Are you okay?" Barbara asks, looking at me with a strange curiosity.  
  
I shrug. I consider lying to her but I feel so dark and cramped right about now. I drop down in a chair next to her. "Is Helena awake?"  
  
"Not yet," Barbara replies. She reaches over me and brushes the hair out of my eyes. She looks at me with such affection. And concern.  
  
"Has she started dreaming again?"  
  
"No. She seems okay. You don't."  
  
I try to offer her a smile. I even take her hand in mine and squeeze. Her palm is soft and full. I enjoy the feel of it. She returns the contact. "Just my head," I say finally. "Just trying to work some things out."  
  
She looks down at her lap for a long moment and she glances up and I can swear that I see wetness in her eyes. Something is really upsetting her. I wonder idly why my telepathy isn't already delving into her mind. "Look, I know you saw things."  
  
"Things?" I ask, feigning innocence. My skin goes a bit cold as I realize where she's going with this.  
  
"Don't go too deep in there. I'm sure it's ugly."  
  
I drop my head. This hurts more. Barbara knows the pain inside of Helena and with all of the intense love she feels for her, even she can't make it better. I vaguely recall a stray thought from Helena's about a fight that and Barbara had had. Something about the way Helena always tried to sabotage anything that started to look good. "She's okay," I say weakly.  
  
"Yes," Barbara says slowly, measuring her words. "She keeps fighting but there is a lot of pain in there. And a lot of anger."  
  
"I know," I say quietly.  
  
Barbara touches my face. "Be careful. She won't want to hurt you but if you get too close, she will."  
  
"She's never hurt you," I insist. Even as I say the words, I know they're not true.  
  
"She's never meant to," Barbara corrects. "I had to learn how to keep the right amount of distance. I don't want to but sometimes there's no choice. She refuses to trust and that's not something that's just going to change overnight."  
  
I lift my chin defiantly. "I don't accept that."  
  
She just smiles. Almost sadly. Then she turns her back to me. "Go to bed. Get a few hours of sleep. I'm sure this calm won't last long."  
  
I nod slowly. I know she's right. We won for tonight. We kept the Joker out of Helena's mind but I'm sure he's far from done. He's made it his personal mission to destroy her. I almost think he needn't have bothered; She'll just do it for him.  
  
"Goodnight," I say as I slide away.  
  
I walk quickly towards the lab and step in. The lights are low but I can still see her lying on the med-bed. Dead out. Sleeping calmly for the first time in weeks. Of course she is drugged to the proverbial gills.  
  
I reach out to touch her face and then I stop. I've already been in there once tonight and I think it's already screwed with my head enough.  
  
I think about where this is all going. I ignore my confusion and try to focus on the actual possibilities. I know whom Helena's emotionally fucked up about.  
  
Reese. Poor bastard. He's just as gone. But he's a fool if he think he's got a clear runway in.  
  
I mean he could push and he could pry. He could try to find her heart beneath all of the rubble. He could force his way through. He could make her feel again. I believe these things. I do.  
  
But what would happen to her? Would he destroy her if he broke down her safety wall? Would he break her in a way no one else could?  
  
This thought devastates me.  
  
I turn away from her. Just for now.  
  
I'll be back.  
  
Because that's me.  
  
I'm sixteen.  
  
I still believe.  
  
-FIN 


End file.
